Dropping in the cheap plastic, I release a sigh, waiting for her to give in and tell me what’s on her mind.
“Don’t worry, Noah. Your daughter is safe. There’s nothing to tie her to this case other than her previous relationship with the husband.”
Exhaling, I look above, thanking God for her security before saying, “That’s terrific… Thank you. So, what’s the problem?”
“There’s nothing to tie the husband to her disappearance either!” she snaps, dropping her head into her hands. “He has alibis the entire time he was at the lake. Earlier this morning, the home was cleared for any suspicious DNA. We need warrants for his office, but with the lack of evidence, I doubt we’ll get it, and just-” she cuts off, defeat hanging heavy on her thin, frail shoulders.
I offer her words of support without promising a happy ending. Truth is, I’ve poured over everything they have regarding this case, against my captain’s orders, and she’s right. Unfortunately, there’s nothing on Theodore Ellis to point blame in his direction. I feel comforted knowing there’s nothing on Scarlett as well, but that only brings new concerns to my mind.
Like, what kind of person did I raise? I thought I was doing the right thing by teaching her all I know, but all I did was teach her how to get away with murder.
“There is something, though… it set off some bells for Rubio and me.”
“What was that?” I ask, sensing my spine go rigid under my shirt.
Swallowing, Winslow looks up, thinking over what she’s allowed to say before uttering, “Scarlett mentioned she was going to the University of California.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, when we were tearing through Mrs. Ellis’s computer, that was one of the top searches. That, and the specific program your daughter was accepted in.”
The detective in me senses something alarming about that information, but the father in me is more concerned. “What are you saying?”
Giving a slow shrug of her shoulders, she states, “It could be nothing, but I don’t know… seems a little odd that Elizabeth’s search history was so specific toward Scarlett. Don’t you think?”
I do, but without her here, there isn’t much I could do about it.
“It’s just so weird… what was she going to do with that information?”
“I don’t know.” Shuddering away the creeping through my spine, I ask, “Who’s the next target?” I already know who’s next on her list. His name has come up too often not to mean something. And with two people claiming he’s lying, it’s put a bullseye on his back.
“The lover, Joshua. Rubio said the guy was sketchy, but I just… I was so sure it was the husband, you know? I mean, let's be honest, he has every fucking reason to want to off her,” she says, crossing her arms behind her head while she throws herself back in the chair.
“What do you mean?”
Sighing, Winslow shakes her head, shuffling through the stack of papers on the desk. “You know, not one person had anything nice to say about this woman.Not one.Everyone described her as rude, demeaning, demanding… Some even said she was outright abusive and cruel. I mean, come on!” Her motions become jerky as she drives herself into a frenzy. “She beat her own husband! She flaunted other men in his face, and yes, I know this is all hearsay, and we aren’t only supposed to take potential suspects at their word, but shit… I believe him because every time you mention her name and their marriage, it’s like a flood of pain enters his eyes… I was the same way when people brought up my divorce from Lacey.”
I don’t like the man, and I have to admit, I wouldn’t lose sleep by locking him in a cell. At least it would get him away from my daughter. But I know the look Winslow is speaking of, that tranquil sort of panic that ripples across his face while his muscles turn to stone.
Domestic violence is the darkest shade of gray. Sometimes it’s in the bruises that we see or the wounds that hide underneath layers of deception. Society has made it easy to dismiss men as victims. They’re ridiculed and berated for the abuse that’s been inflicted upon them, as if it was somehow their fault or under their control. No one really fights for the men beaten, bloody and raw.
Did my daughter? Is that what this is? Her protection for a man who might’ve been pushed too far.
I don’t realize I’m smiling until Winslow calls me out on it, but again, I can’t help but feel a sense of pride for the young women I raised. Her methods may have been…. Unconventional, but I taught her to fight. I taught her to win.
And it seems she has.
“Oh, I was just thinking about what you said. Can I make an observation?” I ask, slanting my head to the right while she does the same to the left.
“What is it?”
“You come off like you want Ellis to be guilty, but I don’t think that’s the case… I think you kind of like him. I think if he did do anything, you want him to get away.”
Her silence speaks volumes, but it’s the smirk pulling at the top corner of her lip that’s my confirmation. Pushing back in her seat, she searches the empty conference room, watching out for listening ears before whispering, “I wouldn’t agonize over it.” She pauses, snorting out a harsh laugh. “I kind of like him, actually. I can see why your daughter is so in love.”
That washes away any smile I had on my face. I may love my daughter, but this relationship isn’t one I’m ready to stomach.
“Oh, fuck off with that scowl, Dane.” Winslow laughs, throwing a balled-up sticky note at my scrunched nose. “Rubio and I both know whatever relationship they had didn’t end two weeks ago, but there’s no crime against it. And, come on. We’ve all been there, fantasied about a teacher we could never have. Your daughter did what we all dreamed of. She got him.”
